It's Zen Monday, the day you experience the photo and give us your thoughts rather than me telling you what I think the photo's about.
I look for a photo worth contemplating or, failing that, something odd or silly. And unless I absolutely must say something I stay out of the comments box to avoid influencing the discussion.
Let your imagination run free. There's no right or wrong. We're here to have fun.
23 comments:
"S-six p-point-t f-five—-nno! A-at l-least a s-sev-v-en-n-n!! Woo hoo! C-call the U-U-S-S-G-G-S-S-s-s-s …"
Sunlight! Must reach coffin!
Start meditating over the long and beautiful road of my life, then distracted by the dog (is it a dog?) wish to treat and pet it. The end.
Quick, Lassie, catch up ~ we have to fetch help...
{Heh heh, Clifford!}
There! Just to the right of the trail was a brushy vortex, luring an unwary dog with its promise of an unending supply of rabbits to chase. Ears flying, Boz ran for human assistance, seeking to free the puppies and hounds who'd been unable to resist the vortex's seductive lie.
"That darned French chef is back again, and he has a knife. God gave me four legs for a reason."
Run freely and exhuberantly, even into the shadows, each day.
Looks like Boz was invited to Phoebes’ tomato feast, but changed his mind after reading the menu, and now he's heading home.
DAYo.
It's good to be alive!
Run Spot. Run.
No one will EVER catch me! I'm Freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
"country road, take me home, to the place, I belonggggggggggg..."
"We run, not because we think it is doing us good, but because we enjoy it and cannot help ourselves." Sir Roger Bannister
"Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate or unworthy. Our greatest fear is that giant crazed bees will catch us before we can make it to the car."
—Nelson Mandela's pug
One of our neighbors said she couldn't imagine Boz running. He's always such an Eeyore on his neighborhood walks. But when we let him loose, he likes to go go go. It may be the vampire in him, or it may be as Karin says, he can't help himself. Or any of the other fantasies you all came up with today. Or it could be the bees.
The rock in the distance looks like a giant face with its mouth open. Maybe it whispered: "Run, Boz,run!"
I think maybe it's part of the hillside because there's a tree on top. So it's not a rock; I'm seeing a face in the hillside....
(Maybe I need to cut down on the coffee....)
I can smell the Umbellularia californica
I see it, Ms. M. I can't tell--might be the configuration of the bushes. It may have provoked Boz. He doesn't need much.
Greg, you've answered a question I've had for a long time. But I'm still going to call it California Bay because it's easier to pronounce.
Boz dreams.
Margaret, you should hear him talk in his sleep.
Whoop! Whoop! … whoopwhoop … rrrrRRRRrrrrrr …
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